Magical Personas
by ShoredKafka
Summary: The impossible was done when Nyx was prevented from destroying humanity. Broken and warped, Nyx tears its way into another universe, determined to bring about The Fall. Arisato must see his task through to the end. In a world of witches and wizards, where a secret magical society exists, he must now do it as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. [Harry is Arisato] Harry/Multi
1. Prologue - Souls Traded

**A/N:**

**I present to you my latest brainchild. I'm a huge fan of the Persona series, especially Persona 3, which I've played more than 10-12 times. I just couldn't accept the ending that the protagonist got. And hey presto, I had an idea for a HP/SMT crossover :D  
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**Yes, I've come across The Crimson Lord's own crossover. I like it, I follow it, but I promise you this one is quite different. The universes, for one thing :P But a lot more too. **

**I know I want this to be a Harry/Multi, but I haven't made specific decisions about his romantic partners. If you want to see someone as his love interest, drop me a review telling me who and why.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

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><p>Dark blue feathers fluttered around them as they stood, bleeding but defiant. He looked upon Nyx, standing mightily in the backdrop of the moon. She - was it a she? He could not tell, for the voice was distorted, even as it spoke to them at that moment, utterly confident despite the damage it had taken.<p>

"_**You struggle in vain,"**_she intoned, and her mighty wings cut through the air as she drew them around around her, and the Moonless Gown adorned her black figure once more. He exhaled once, and tightened his hand around Lucifer's Blade to stop it from shaking. Metatron loomed to his left, his body peerlessly sculpted armor, his wings of steel thrumming with energy as his golden robe fluttered about him.

"**At the breach we stand, and His fire shrouds my blade. Stand strong, my master. Tis almost at an end."**

He nodded at his persona, only to be interrupted by the harsh, grating of another entity standing at his other side. An overwhelming smell of brimstone assaulted his nostrils as Beelzebub floated besides him.

"**All this fightin' getting me all fired up! That arrogant bitch thinks she can cause more carnage than the mighty Beelzebub? We'll rip her face apart."**

He smiled slightly, amused as he always was by Beelzebub's speech despite the seriousness of the situation. A third entity stood at his front, the vanguard of his attack. Shiva towered over him, and now glanced back upon hearing the talk.

"**Be silent, you putrid fly. **_**I **_**wield the right of destruction. **_**I**_** decide when the world must be renewed once more. This upstart seeks to usurp me? My eye will burn down her arrogance."**

He sighed, looking at his comrades as they healed themselves and the others. They could not see the by-play, his personas were seen by him alone. Already he felt like his head would shatter, his body exacting punishment from him for manifesting multiple personas at once. He accepted the punishment, but did not let it control him.

"Humanity called for Nyx," he said, knowing they needed to hear something - anything to bolster them for what would be the final push. They looked at him, panting hard, Iori resting on one knee as he struggled to regain his strength.

"Thanatos told us that Nyx was beyond comprehension. That nothing could stop her from carrying out her task. Yet here we are, forcing her to use all her strength. Humanity may have called Nyx. But that is precisely why we will not fail today. If humanity has the power to bring her here, it also has the power to send her back."

His voice never rose, remaining as calm as if they were merely at the mall. But he forced all his conviction in his words, feeding it to his teammates. It worked, as the spark in their eyes got a little brighter. Their hands grew a little steadier. Their knees trembled a little less.

Together, they charged at Nyx one last time.

"_**The time has come," **_boomed Nyx as a crimson light emanated from her, the power already pressing on him a little. He stumbled, but kept charging, Lucifer's Blade thrumming with delight as he channeled his power.

"_**All shall perish."**_

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><p>How could one be everywhere at once? It was a phrase he had always pondered, unable to understand the implications of it. He knew that the mind was an endless sea of potential. How else had he manifested beings of such incomprehensible power? And yet the idea of a being not being located had never seemed plausible to him.<p>

And yet, nothing could better describe his current existence. He remembered his friends, how they had made the final push that shattered Nyx's form. He remembered how he had been drawn to Nyx's very core, even as his friends shouted and tried in vain to get on their feet and pull him back. He remembered the chrysalis of golden light that had awaited him.

He remembered the terrifying feeling of helplessness as he threw everything he had at it, to no avail. Metatron, Shiva, Beelezebub. Eventually they all faded against the assaults the chrysalis laid on him, and he fell to his knees as the terrifying words Thanatos had spoken to him finally sunk in.

_Nyx cannot be destroyed._

He had been ready to give up then, his hand letting go of his blade, which seemed to melt into nothingness. The golden light shone before him, defiant in its existence, taunting him with his failure.

"_Don't give up! We have to believe him!" _came Akihiko's voice, reaching him even in the heart of darkness.

"_Take my life if you must!" _cried out Mitsuru. The girl who had shown him what it meant to love, while he had showed her what it meant to live.

He gritted his teeth and stood shakily on his feet, only to be struck down yet again by a wave of deathly energy.

"_He's not alone! I won't let him die!" _came Iori's voice, strong with determination. Even as he lay close to death, a small smile flickered across his face. This was the same Iori who had been jealous of him, who had resented his power. When Iori had finally made peace with himself, he had emerged a hundred times stronger for it.

He stood again, now glaring with fierce determination at the golden light.

"I will not fall," he had told the pulsing chrysalis, speaking for the first time, even as a great power overwhelmed him, his instincts telling him what had to be done. Even as his friends cried out their support, he pointed a single finger towards the very heart of Nyx.

"If you will not die, I will seal you," he had said and unleashed the newfound power within him in torrents, seeing only a blinding blue light before all was dark.

Now, where was he? He had known that sealing Nyx would cost him his existence, at least existence as he knew it. He still existed, his memories, his personalities. But where was he? He had given up on finding an answer long ago, resigned to the feeling of just...existing forever. It was an empty feeling.

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><p>"Makoto Arisato," came a voice, and a great power seemed to rush through his surroundings. Where there had once been everything and nothing, there was now the Velvet Room once again. He was sitting upon the dark blue couches, and before him sat Igor, who looked the same as ever with his long nose, bulging eyes, and pointed ears.<p>

"You abided by the contract you made with me. You took responsibility for your actions," he said with his peculiar voice, studying him as if he was a fascinating specimen. Then again, Igor had always looked at him that way.

He simply looked at Igor. There had been no questions, only statements. There was nothing for him to say.

Igor looked at him for a few more moments before cackling with laughter, "I see you have not changed."

Still he held his silence. Igor grinned widely, exposing immaculately white teeth. He began to speak once more.

"Your contract is considered completed. Your task, however, seems to have undergone...complications."

At this he sat a little straight, a questioning look in his eyes, "Have I not sealed away from the world. She cannot approach it any more."

Igor spread his arms expansively, and for the first time he noticed that Elizabeth was not in the Velvet Room, as she always was.

"There is a small problem with what you said. Nyx can no longer approach _your _world, you see."

He raised an eyebrow, but stopped any protests. The past year had convinced him of the existence of the seemingly impossible, if nothing else.

"Yes, I see you have arrived at the answer. There are other worlds."

"And Nyx has chosen another?" he asked, his voice now tense. His sacrifice now seemed meaningless.

Igor seemed to have divined his thoughts, for he raised a white-gloved hand in a placating manner.

"Your efforts were not in vain. You sealed away a majority of Nyx's power. She is no longer the exalted being she once was. But her consciousness still exists, and she is still bound to her task."

"To answer the call of death," he completed, his voice now expressionless.

"Indeed. But now she cannot force her will upon any world. Now she must move in the darkness, speaking gilded lies and empty promises. She must bend men to her will and have them accomplish her task for her."

He frowned and steeped his hands together, another line of thought occurring to him.

"You brought me here now, when it seems as if you could have done so at any time. There must be a reason. What is it?"

Igor's smile dimmed, and his pose seemed to draw in a little. "No, not at any time. The only reason I can do so now is using the weakness in the structure that Nyx left when she tore through."

"The weakness in the structure of _what?"_ he asked, confusion lacing his tone.

"Why, do you not remember what I told you when you first came here?" asked Igor, and his voice was now playful, "Between dream and reality. Mind and matter. That is where you have been since sealing Nyx away. And that is what she used to reach another world."

"You wish for me to go there," he said, as realization dawned upon him. Igor dipped his nose sharply, and spoke with a sad tone.

"Your old world is lost to you now, my friend, and you and Nyx are still bound together by destiny. But beyond that, you now have an opportunity before you. Will you take it?"

He thought for a moment, and realized there was nothing to think about. He thrived around social links, even though he seemed to be cold and detached to most people.

"I will. I am not accustomed to leaving tasks half completed," he said firmly, and stood up.

"Excellent," smiled Igor and he too stood, "You will retain your personas, but the Velvet Room will not exist in that world. Nor do persona wielders, aside from yourself. Whether it stays that way depends on you."

The needle of the clock above them suddenly began to go haywire, moving at speeds his eyes couldn't even follow. For the second time, he felt something rush through him, and the world dissolved before his eyes.

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><p><strong>(AN: Death refers to the embodiment in Harry's world, Thanatos refers to Makoto's persona. Easy way to distinguish between them)**

Now he stood in what appeared to be a deserted train station, though this looked much different from the subways he had seen in Japan. A hooded figure stood before him, its skeletal fingers clasping a gleaming scythe.

**You are not supposed to be here** it said, it's voice giving away nothing.

Before he could say anything, a persona pulled at him from within his mind, wanting to be released at that moment. He obliged, and Thanatos emerged from the sea of his soul, floating in front of the cloaked figure. It did not stay in its usual form, however, but immediately morphed into an identical form of the cloaked figure.

His eyes widened, and he realized that he was standing in the domain of this world's Death.

**An aberration has entered this world. The balance will be disturbed** said Thanatos, speaking to the cloaked figure.

**The balance is broken even now with his presence **replied Death, showing no visible surprise at seeing another version of itself.

**Do not feign innocence. You see what he is. He is no mere human. Besides, we have a way of doing this without upsetting the balance, do we not? **said Thanatos, waving his fingers. A small portal appeared before them, and he beheld a small, black-haired child curled up and sleeping in what looked to be some sort of closet.

**He was to be Master of Death. I have waited long for one as worthy as he will become** retorted Death, and now its voice was laced with anger.

**Do you not see the person before you? **challenged Thanatos, stepping closer to Death **There is already a Master of Death here. **_**My**_** master.**

Death stood silent for a while, and then spoke again **Very well. The aberration must be erased. Destruction cannot happen out of balance.****This child is already close to death by starvation. I was merely...refusing the call.**

Death reached out his hand, and it seemed to move through the portal effortlessly. He grasped something from within the boy and pulled, before withdrawing his hand. The portal faded.

"Where am I?" said the boy weakly, now awake and standing before them. He looked at the boy's starved frame, his emerald eyes, and what appeared to be a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Thor stirred in his mind as he beheld the scar.

He knelt before the boy, knowing that neither Deaths were capable of explaining the situation to a child.

"You are dead, child," he said, and then mentally hit himself. Perhaps one of the Deaths would have done a better job after all.

The child's eyes widened, "B-But why? I did everything Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said. I-I washed the dishes, did the lawn…"

His eyes flashed with anger as the child continued to list his labor. The number of things he detested were very few. These relatives sounded like one of them.

"It is nothing you did wrong," he said gently, "But now you have a choice. You see, you were alive because you had something really important to do. But you can go and see your parents now, if you like. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

The boy's gleaming eyes looked up at his, radiating both fear and hope, "B-But what about the really important thing?"

He smiled thinly at this, knowing that this had been what Thanatos had suggested. "I'll do it for you. You deserve to see your parents."

The child moved suddenly, and he found himself clasped in a weak grip as the child cried.

"Now now," he said hesitantly and patted the child's head.

"I-I wanna see my parents," came the child's voice, muffled from being pressed into his chest.

"You will," he said and looked at both embodiments of death. Both raised their hands simultaneously, and a train chugged into the station, gleaming magnificently. Two people stepped out from the train. The first was a man, dark haired and bespectacled. The other was a beautiful red-haired woman, her eyes the exact shade of Harry's eyes.

"Go to them," he said, and watched as the boy hesitantly walked towards his parents and took their hands. They climbed onto the train again, and the train began to move slowly. "THANK YOU!" came the boy's voice, and then the train was gone.

He sighed turned around, only to find that Death had disappeared. He was alone with Thanatos now.

"I suppose it's time," he stated, and Thanatos dipped his head.

**The child's body held a poisonous soul leech. I have removed it. That is all I can do now, my master. You will succeed. Now, it is time for you to go.**

And for the third time, the world spun around him once more.

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><p>He came into awareness once more, and this time, it was a truly disturbing feeling. His body felt so weak, so incapable. The days he had spent strengthening himself through swordplay and exercise seemed like a dream now, as he lifted bone-thin arms into the dim light that shone above him.<p>

The air smelled of must, sweat, and tears, and his clothes seemed to be meant for someone three times bigger than him. Even as he pushed himself into a standing position, his muscles protesting as he did so, a loud voice rang throughout the house.

"BOY! GET OUT OF THERE AND MAKE BREAKFAST OR YOU'LL GO WITHOUT FOOD FOR A WEEK!"

"I've had warmer welcomes to a new universe," he muttered, smiling thinly to himself as he opened the door and guided himself to the kitchen. Things would begin to change, and they would change soon.

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><p><strong>Yep, this was just a prologue, even though it came to nearly 3k words. For the actual chapters, I'm shooting for a much bigger word count per chapter, but we'll see how it goes.<strong>

**Oh, if you don't know about the entities like Metatron or Shiva, well, use Google. It's not that hard.**

**Review please!**


	2. Chapter 1 - The Fool

**So, this was a quicker update than I thought it would be. Shorter than I expected too. I figured I would do the introductory parts in quick succession, and really focus on the meaty parts of the story. First, some responses:**

**Why is there romance? Because I feel my interpretation will benefit for it.**

**Why do the personas talk? I feel it makes them more interesting. Mythology is fascinating, and to be able to call on these mythological beings is amazing. To not explore them is a serious waste, in my opinion.**

**You're a Hermione fan? You might be disappointed. I don't have much bashing in store for her, nor will I give her prominence. She will just not be an important character here.**

**Arisato isn't going back to level 1, speaking power-wise. Once he starts improving his body, he will be capable of some very serious summons.**

**Harry's overpowered? Well give me a break. This is end game Arisato that has entered HP. He may be overpowered now, but I have some interesting twists in store. I'll be hinting at one of them in this chapter.**

**Read and review.**

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><p><em>How do I know this? <em>he wondered, as his feeble hands darted around the kitchen, fetching the ingredients he would need to carry out the orders of the piggish man who had yelled at him.

_I see two explanations. I have been given his memories. No, I do not remember anything other than this body's name. Then...could it be muscle memory? Did that child do this so often that his body reacts on instinct?_

A wave of anger coursed through him, and the demons in his mind howled and snarled, begging for release. Begging to tear away at the ones that would so treat a child. But no, he denied them. It would not do to act without any knowledge of what was happening around him.

The world was much like his own, of that there seemed to be no doubt. He was in England, a place he had known the basics of, in addition to the English language. But he needed more information. What was the power that seemed to be coursing through the veins of this body? Why was it so reminiscent of…

"YOU'RE BURNING THE SAUSAGES!" shrieked an ugly woman, before his vision exploded into a million stars, and he fell to the ground, his head pulsating from the saucepan she had just hit him with.

_Wait _he ordered himself as his many entities screamed for release. Pain was simple. Pain was something he had seen a lot of during his battles. Burned, frozen, shocked, poisoned, and so much more. He rose from the floor, muttering a meek "Sorry" before moving back to the stove, even as he assessed the damage to his body. His head throbbed, and every movement sent pain through it. But it was unlikely to cause lasting damage.

_This body is too weak. First, some nutrition. Then, I summon a persona that can scout for information. I will have to steal the food_ he decided, and did so carefully, using sleight of hand to slip small pieces of the sausage, and some bread into his oversized pockets. The woman said little else, apart from glaring at him constantly while sitting at the kitchen table.

Thundering sounds reached his ears and he sighed, realizing that the pig-like man was ready to eat as well. But then he frowned slightly when the steps didn't sound like those of a single man.

_That sound could only be from a sounder of swine, not just one_ he mused wryly, the pain now almost gone _don't tell me…_

His worst fears were confirmed when he saw a miniature pig run into the room, greedily grabbing at his mother's breakfast now.

"Now now Duddykins," crooned the woman sickeningly, "Eat as much as you want."

"Freak!" she snapped, glaring at Harry, "What's taking you so long?"

"Gotta keep beating the freakishness out of him," grunted the man-pig as he picked up his newspaper, while the child-pig laughed at the thought before continuing to demolish the food on the table.

"I am," sniffed the bony woman before pouring herself some coffee.

_Freakishness? This world may not have Persona wielders yet, for Thanatos told me so. But this suggests their own brand of the supernatural. These are the boy's relatives, not his parents. Could he be part of this supernatural circle? But why then would be not be with one of them?_

With nothing but the faintest of words as a clue, he turned back to preparing the breakfast, and sneaking some away from himself. He would need it for the next step. And perhaps, if luck was on their side, his relatives would survive it.

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><p>Teeth ripped cheap meat apart, his tongue cried out in bliss and his stomach wept a little less as he gorged on the food he had stolen early in the privacy of his cupboard. It was late in the night, and he finally had his privacy. It was Sunday, and the people in the house had feasted and indulged in slothfulness all day, though they seemed to take their commitment to beat him quite seriously.<p>

_Not quite enough to beat the freakishness out of me, I'm afraid _he thought amusedly, thinking about when Pharos had been sealed into him. Months of combat had given him a strange ability to detach himself from his pain. Or had he merely accepted it entirely? He could no longer tell.

"This much nutrition should suffice for one mid-level persona," he muttered out loud. He no longer had his evoker. But when had he truly needed it? He, who had walked with death for so long?

**I summon you from the sea of my soul, the fifty-fifth spirit of the Shemhamporash, the guardian of knowledge, Orobas!**

He smiled slightly as his persona shimmered into being, even as his knees buckled as his energy was drained. The fierce demon looked down at him, it's equine face studying him impassively.

"**To think I would find you thus, my Master," **it said solemnly as he sat shakily on the floor, his legs able to support him no more.

"You know why I called you," he said, his breath beginning to come in short pants. Summoning one persona hadn't affected him this badly since he had first called out to Orpheus.

"**But of course. The guardian of knowledge must know. The entity born of your soul must know."**

His lips twitched slightly in response to that, "I suppose you're right."

"**You have not the power to give in recompense for all you seek. But I will set you on the path, yes. Knowledge to begin this journey will be yours."**

It reached out with its hand, eyes glowing with power, and placed it on his head. Even as the knowledge rushed into his head, millions of images and words tearing their way through his min, his vision began to fade. The last words he heard were

**May fortune favor you, my master.**

And then he knew no more.

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><p><em>This has been happening far too often<em> was his first thought when he was pulled out of unconsciousness yet again. He stood and stretched a little, his body having recovered a little from the rest.

_I see. So this world has wizards. Entire societies of them, hidden away from...the term was Muggles, yes? _he mused to himself as he left the cupboard and reached the kitchen early, intending to cook himself something quickly before the rest of the family would awaken. With an idea of where to start, he could no longer allow the status quo to continue.

A few minutes later, he had eaten and quenched his thirst. The darkness began to lift from his eyes a little more. Now, it was time to begin. With his knowledge, he knew that he had a far greater chance of improving his physical condition using the potions that these magical people had created.

But first, he would need an illusion. And he knew one persona that was within his power to call forth at the moment.

"It's been a while, Taraka," he said, once the summoning was completed.

"**So it has, boy. Although you're a child now, aren't you?"** teased Taraka. The female yaksha was capable of changing her form to just about anything, which made her exactly what he needed at the moment. At the moment, she was in the form of a bewitchingly beautiful woman.

"**What do you need me to do?"** she continued. He furrowed his brows slightly.

"I will not be able to keep you summoned the entire day. Take my form and wait until the three people in this house assemble here. Cast a persuasion charm on them, making them send you out for the entire day. Then, you may disappear. I will be back in the evening, and they will be none the wiser."

Taraka nodded her head in understanding. Seconds later, he found himself looking at an exact copy of himself. He nodded to her and left, pausing to take some change from his uncle's overcoat. He took only enough for a bus to London, an amount small enough that it was unlikely to come to his uncle's notice.

_I sincerely hope Orobas' skills haven't gone faulty. Who on Earth names an establishment The Leaky Cauldron? _he wondered to himself as he found the bus he needed. Were all British people so strange? Or was it merely these wizards that were strange?

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><p><em>Yes. Wizards are definitely crazy<em> he thought to himself as he looked at the ramshackle establishment that was supposedly the gateway to the wizarding core of London. Strange smells leaked out of the establishment, making him wrinkle his nose. It surprised him to see that none of the normal Londoners seemed to notice the smell.

_Perhaps the rest of London must smell similar_ he shrugged to himself as he tentatively pushed open the door to the inn, entering a dimly lit, smoky parlor. It was, he was rather relieved to kind, rather quiet, despite the multitude of wizards that were crowded around the tables. They muttered to themselves as brooms cleaned by themselves, pots refilled themselves, and stools arranged themselves.

_Oh yes. Crazier than that drunk monk Mutatsu__******_ he remarked to himself as he walked towards the innkeeper, intent on adding on to the information to add on to what Orobas had given him.

"Aren't you a little too young to be in here alone kid?" asked the hunchbacked man behind the counter, roughly, but not unkindly.

"I just need to get into Diagon Alley. My parents will meet me there soon, they told me I could go ahead and look at the stores!," he exclaimed, trying to sound as earnest as he could.

The man's face softened, and he moved from behind the counter, gesturing to Harry as he did so.

"Well, there's a trick to this, you see," he explained as he stopped in front of what appeared to be a blank wall, "But you'll need a wand before you can do this on your own. My name's Tom, by the way. Nice to meet ye kid"

Tom drew what appeared to be his own wand, and tapped certain bricks on the wall in a pattern. He watched closely, making sure to memorize the pattern. His eyes grew wide as the bricks began to tuck themselves away in a bizarre manner, revealing a street bustling with activity.

_Now this is a sight to see_ he thought appreciatively as he thanked Tom childishly before walking into the Alley, taking in every sight he possibly could. Even the Tower did not prevent him from being surprised by the many sights he saw around him.

_But first, this bank called Gringotts. Orobas made quite a point of sending me information about it. No strategy without finance, I suppose _he mused, thinking back to the many materials he had bought, sold and forged to keep his teammates well-equipped and well-supplied.

So engrossed was he in his past memories that he ran into the person before him, who stumbled forward with an indignant sound. With a start, he looked up to see a young girl with blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes. Eyes that were, at this very moment, trying to glare at him with an intensity that he had only seen before in Mitsuru.

So shocked was he that he forgot to apologize immediately, which had only made the situation worse, as she glared even harder, if such a thing was possible.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she ground out venomously, "Do you make it a point to shove people around and not apologize?"

He shook his head and lowered it slightly, even as two adults came up behind her. He assumed they were her parents.

"Forgive me, I was lost in thought. Stumbling into you was unacceptable, and not apologizing immediately even more so. I really am very sorry," he said, keeping his head down until he was finished.

When he looked up, he blinked when he saw that the girl was no longer glaring, instead looking at him amusedly.

"I've never seen an apology quite like that," she said, and a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. Her parents appeared to be similarly amused. With a start, he realized that he had been speaking as a Japanese teenager, instead of a British child. He would have to be more careful with his mannerisms and speech.

"I guess my own reasons are pretty unique as well," he said, smiling slightly. He had just spoken the truth, but oh, how little would these people realize just how much truth there was to it.

"Well now, an apology has been made and all is well," boomed her father, a burly man who nevertheless radiated a sense of eloquence and nobility.

"And the boy is so cute, you must forgive him Daphne," said her mother, smiling, looking like an older version of her daughter.

"Mother!" exclaimed Daphne, looking horrified, while his own eyes widened, though in disbelief. The lady thought a half-starved child to be cute? Although, he had to admit that Harry Potter had eyes that were of a beautiful green color. He still had not completely come to terms with the idea that the body was now his, as was the name.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass. This is my father Damien Greengrass, and my mother Isabela Greengrass," said the girl, once the look of horror had faded from her face, "What's your name?"

"Harry Potter, pleased to meet you," he said, resisting the urge to bow as he spoke. He was surprised when a look of shock and disbelief came across the face of all three people, and they looked at him as if they were seeing a ghost.

_Why? _he wondered, searching through the information Orobas had given him.

_Oh_ he realized when he came across the fact that Harry Potter was famous in the wizarding world, for surviving a killing spell of some sort as a baby. His parents had been killed in the attack, and that was the last the wizarding world had seen of him.

_I've grown careless. I should have fully ingested the information. But I never expected this identity to have such significance _he groaned internally, while projecting a look of confusion on his face. This child would not know of why he was special, having never been around this kind.

"Um...is everything okay?" he asked them timidly. The question seemed to pull them out of their shocked daze.

"That scar…you really are Harry Potter. Why didn't I notice it before?" muttered the man to himself, while Daphne's face was now switching between disbelief and curiosity.

"Damien," chided Lady Greengrass, "You are making the boy feel uncomfortable."

"What? Oh, yes. Forgive me. May I call you Harry?" asked the man, and he nodded immediately. Ceremony was one thing he would never willingly stand on.

"You seem confused, Harry. Don't you know why we seem so shocked?" asked the man. Harry Potter did not know. So he shook his head, channeling confusion into his emerald eyes.

"How is that possible?" demanded Daphne, looking at him suspiciously.

"Um...could you please tell me why you know me?" he asked Lord Greengrass, ignoring Daphne for the moment.

Lord Greengrass sighed, and motioned towards Gringotts, "It seems you were heading in that direction. May I explain along the way?"

He nodded and began to walk at Lord Greengrass' side as he heard about the Dark Lord, about the thirteen years of terror, about his parents, and finally about how he had defeated the Dark Lord before he could even speak.

_That certainly qualifies as special. Now the next question is, why would this special child be sent to an abusive home, far away from his heritage?_ he wondered.

"Um...sir…" he said hesitantly, "Why did I grow up with people who beat me? I never knew about any of this before now."

Lady Greengrass' eyes widened in surprise, "What do you mean you were beaten?"

He pulled his small frame in even further to look as if he was frightened, and replied, "I-I live with my uncle and aunt. They beat me and made me do chores every day. I-I didn't even know about magic until a little while ago."

"What?" exclaimed Daphne, looking furious.

"Daphne," said Lady Greengrass firmly before turning to Harry, "They told you nothing at all about your parents? About the magical world?"

"N-No. They just called me freak all the time."

"Bastards," hissed Lord Greengrass just as they reached the steps leading to Gringotts.

"So how did you find out about the magical world?" asked Daphne curiously, ignoring the goblin guards who were glaring harshly at everyone.

"Strange people would walk up to me and know my name. I thought it was really weird. One of them shook my hand a few days ago, and he happened to mention the Leaky Cauldron. I was tired of living with my relatives, so I thought I would get away and come here," he said meekly.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked them nervously, his eyes darting from one adult's to the other's.

The Greengrasses looked at each other for a few seconds, before turning back to him and shaking their heads.

"I suddenly cannot recall anything you told me," said Lord Greengrass, looking around the main lobby of Gringotts nonchalantly.

"It's good that you decided to start with Gringotts," smiled Lady Greengrass, "Your parents were one of the few clients they truly respected, I believe. They will help you in many ways."

"Well then, Harry, we have to attend to our business now," said Lord Greengrass, stopping near a teller's desk, "Good luck. Your parents were not close friends of ours, but we certainly respected them. Send me an owl should you need help."

"Goodbye Harry," said Daphne, and for the first time, her face was a little soft.

"You'll meet Daphne again soon, I suspect," said Lady Greengrass, "She starts Hogwarts this year, and so will you."

He smiled at the family, and nodded at Daphne. As they walked towards their teller, the Empress personas within him shifted faintly, as if resonating with something. _Perhaps I have begun to find allies_ he realized, as he turned away from them.

For the first time, he really looked around at the goblins. Despite Orobas' information on them, he was still startled to see such beings walk the Earth outside of the Dark Tower. One of the desks did not have a client at the moment, and the goblin sitting there reminded him suspiciously of Igor.

He walked towards that desk, and spoke to the teller, "Excuse me, do you have a moment?"

The goblin looked up with a scowl on his face, a scowl that lessened slightly when he realized that there was only a small child before him.

"What do you want, child," he growled.

"I-I was told I could find out about myself here," he said, making sure to maintain eye contact with the goblin. Something told him he could not afford to be caught with a lie here.

"You know nothing of yourself? Not even your name?" asked the goblin, this time disbelievingly.

"My name i-is Harry Potter," he said, now beginning to feel irritated at having to play the part of a child.

The snarled softly for a moment and stood, beckoning to be followed.

"The Potter family has always had a Senior Accountant to help them. I hope for your sake that you do not lie, child. Helmsbane is not sympathetic to liars."

He said nothing, choosing instead to study the tunnel that they were walking down. There were very few wizards here, and a lot more goblins. Despite the many people bustling around, the tunnel was quiet. Soon, they arrived at a heavy, plain-looking door.

"Please, go inside. If you are indeed Harry Potter, your questions will be answered. If you're not...well…" the goblin left the sentence hanging as it departed, leaving him standing at the door alone. He knocked.

"Enter" came a low voice and he walked in, only to find an ancient-looking goblin sitting behind a simple desk. The goblin looked at him through suspicious eyes that rested on his forehead, and then moved to meet his own.

"You have your father's face and your mother's eyes. You have the scar left to you by the Dark Lord," he stated.

Nothing was said. After a moment, the goblin continued, "Appearances, however, are quite often deceiving." Here Helmsbane picked up a wicked looking dagger, looking at it almost lovingly.

**(A/N: He'll be referred to as Harry, in the interest of the universe he's in. But it's still Arisato under there)**

Harry - he had to accept that name now - smiled internally at the goblin's theatrics. He had no doubt that many full-grown people would be afraid by now, so he let an appropriate amount of fear shine through on his face.

"Will you take the test of blood, boy?" asked the goblin, now looking back at him, "Prove to me that the Potter blood runs in your veins."

He nodded resolutely, knowing that this would be the first significant move he would be making in this world. Nyx would lie dormant, but he could not afford to. The Potter family seemed to influential in this strange world - a world which seemed to be a cross between nobility and democracy. Should his family have resources, they would help enormously.

He took the dagger, making sure his hand trembled a little, before making a small cut on his palm. He held his hand over a yellow piece of parchment that Helmsbane held out, watching as a few drops of blood fell upon it.

He watched, fascinated, as the pool of blood on the parchment began to split off into dozens of thin lines, gliding through the parchment as if with a mind of their own. Soon, the lines began to stop, and the blood curved and flowed to form writing at the center of the parchment.

_Harry James Potter_

_Age: 10_

_Blood: Half-Blood_

He sighed in relief when the test proved to have positive results. He was about to speak again when he realized that the blood was still moving, crafting two words that almost stopped his heart.

_The Fool_

The silence that followed was deafening. Suddenly, Helmsbane began to laugh, the guttural sound echoing through his chambers.

* * *

><p>The room was luxuriously decorated, and the lighting dim. Servers moved expertly through the room, ensuring that their clients were kept comfortable. There were very few people in the room that night. One of the most noticeable patrons was a man with long, blonde hair and silver eyes. He held a goblet of wine in his hand as he talked in soft tones with his companion.<p>

His companion presented a much more disagreeable visage. With a heavily scarred face and a constant scowl marring his mangled features, his face was a stark contrast to the gaudily wealthy clothes he wore. He too held a goblet in hand, though he seemed to ignore it for the most part.

The scarred man was frowning as he spoke, "Are you sure the Minister alone will suffice, Lucius? The man has the spine of a flobberworm. Will we not be better off cementing our position with more people in the Ministry?"

A darkness moved through the shadows, silent and unseen. It prowled the room, looking for the perfect host, just as it had prowled the city for so long. It neared the blonde man and halted, as if studying him. Just as the man was about to speak again in protest, it entered him. Tendril by tendril, maliced thread by maliced thread, it began to influence him.

"_**The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate."**_

"Lucius! Are you alright?" asked the scarred man as the blonde man suddenly slumped in his chair, his eyes seeing but unseeing.

"_**To find the one true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainty."**_

The blonde man suddenly sat back up, his eyes alert once more.

"I'm fine, Nott," he said smoothly, "Merely considering your idea. And you're right. Our guidance of wizardkind cannot depend on one man. The masses will need to be led on the right path. We will find more people in the Ministry."

"_**Eternity awaits."**_

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><p><strong>Orobas <strong>- Fifty fifth spirit of Hell.

**Mutatsu** - A character from Persona 3

**Well, what else is there to say? Till next time. REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Satan's Scale

**A/N:**

**Short again. My apologies for that.**

**Right. A lot of people are asking me how Arisato can be this weak. Simple. His mind – his consciousness/soul/awarenesss – is what holds his personas. Hence he still has them. However, he is currently in the body of a** **malnourished, abused, nearly-eleven year old****. The description speaks for itself. He still needs to provide the ****energy**** for his summons. Hence, he must first train his body to a decent level. Which will happen at its own pace.**

**Anyways, here is the next chapter. Read on.**

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><p>Harry kept his face impassive as Helmsbane continued to laugh gutturally, unsure of what to expect. The wizened old goblin seemed to be as unpredictable as Igor - He was unsure as to whether that was a good thing or not.<p>

"The parchment is not in the habit of commenting on the status of a person's intelligence, Master Potter," said the goblin, still chuckling as he spoke, "So would you care to tell me what this is about?"

He would not tell anyone, at least not yet. And certainly not someone he had only known for a few minutes.

"I have only just found myself in the Wizarding world, master Helmsbane. All I know of it is that I am famous in this world. How could I explain this when you could not?" he said smoothly, looking the goblin in the eye.

"Indeed," said the old goblin blandly, merely looking at him for a few seconds. He looked back comfortably. Few were as comfortable with silence as he was.

"Very well. In any case, your identity is confirmed, master Potter. What would you have of your Account Manager?"

He dipped his head for a few moments, trying to delineate all his needs. He would start with the most pressing ones.

"Can you offer me material on the Wizarding world? How its society works, how its politics works, everything of importance."

Summoning Orobas too often would be a strain on his mind if he did not meditate and absorb on it every time. He was better off working with books. The ghost of a smile reached his lips as he remembered how he and Mitsuru would devour books at a frightening pace, each challenging the other to excel.

"We can, and we will. There are ten books that should give you sufficient grounding. Would you like to purchase them?"

He cocked his head to one side, realizing that this was the best time to ask another question.

"I have an account manager. That is a certain level of personalized attention, and not granted to many. What is the status of my family's account here? I would like to know of my assets."

Helmsbane nodded, "That is good thinking. I would have been most disappointed if you had made purchases without being aware of your finances."

He raised one eyebrow at the goblin, "You were testing me, weren't you?"

The goblin didn't even bat an eyelid, "Perhaps. We Account Managers serve loyally. We also like to expect certain standards from those we serve."

He smiled slightly, "An acceptable view to have. Now, the information please."

Helmsbane nodded and reached for a drawer, pulling out a sheaf of documents, "I have not been able to do much with your accounts since the demise of your parents. I kept on the investments they had already made, but it is not in my power to make new investments without permission. Nevertheless, your accounts are healthy."

He accepted the papers that were handed to him. Unlike most official documents, which seemed to delight in being nigh indecipherable, these seemed to be easy to read.

"Not bad, these were actually written with the intention for people to understand it," he muttered and the old goblin grinned ferociously.

"Only for select clients," he grinned, "You should see some of the documents we draw up for the pureblood supremacists."

"Who are they?" he asked, a little absently, as he continued to read through the papers.

"Purebloods are those who have a magical inheritance from both parents. The name of course refers to what they think that status gives them. They tolerate the half-bloods, who are partially of magical blood, and look down on first-generation magic, which they term mudbloods."

He paused in his reading and absorbed the information. It seemed to resonate with some of the information Orobas had given him. "This Dark Lord…" he began to ask when Helmsbane interrupted him.

"They were his supporters," confirmed the goblin, "Though most managed to avoid being sentenced with a combination of money, blackmail and power."

_Ah yes. Tanaka's realm of speciality_ he thought to himself, remembering the unlikely connection between him and the strange businessman. He finished going through the documents and looked at the goblin.

"As I understand it, my family vault has 20 million galleons as well as various artifacts and heirlooms. My trust vault has 1 million galleons. I must use my trust vault until I reach my majority. Which is when, exactly?"

"You case is unusual, master Harry," said the goblin hesitantly, "Magical children reach their maturity when they are seventeen. But you are the last surviving heir of your family. I believe that means you may claim your full rights when your teenage years begin."

"When I am thirteen, then," he stated, and the goblin nodded.

"I don't want to stay with my muggle guardians until then," he said, and here he affected some emotion, "They are...unfit guardians."

The goblin's eyes narrowed, "Unfit, you say…" his eyes raked over Harry's body once more, this time taking in the scars and lack of nutrition, "Indeed. Well, in this case, you may thank the pureblood faction. They absolutely refused to allow muggles to legally adopt a child of wizarding lineage. In other words, your relatives have no hold over you here. However, you must still have a guardian in the magical world. It would satisfy the law and allow you to find more...hospitable accommodations."

He frowned at the reply, which made things both easy and difficult for him. How would he able to select a worthy guardian when he knew nothing of the wizarding population? And he certainly did not want to return to loving relatives. He thought back to the only family he had met, the Greengrass family.

The situation was not ideal. But his insight into people rarely failed him, and all three members of the family had seemed honorable.

"How soon must I find a guardian?" he asked the goblin.

"You are soon to be eleven, yes?" asked Helmsbane, and continued when he nodded in the affirmative, "Then it must be at the soonest. You will soon be receiving your Hogwarts letter, and enter the wizarding world publicly. Besides, many would take the chance, if offered. It would be a valuable deal to make."

"How would taking in a eleven-year-old child be valuable?" he asked, confused.

"Firstly, your reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. Their own would be greatly enhanced by association. And secondly, your family is a Noble one, and therefore has seats in the Wizengamot. Wizarding parliament," Helmsbane hastened to add when he saw him looking even more confused, "Meaning your guardian could wield those votes with your consent."

He nodded, making a note to obtain more information about this parliament. If he had the resources, he would be foolish not to use it.

"Is the Greengrass family still present in Gringotts?" he asked the goblin.

"I will find out," replied the goblin, "Would you like to invite them here if so?"

He nodded in the affirmative, "Politely, please."

"It will be done," said Helmsbane, before summoning an aide and barking out a series of instructions.

"Now then," he said, turning back to Harry, "What else do you need?"

"Healing must be advanced here, I presume," he said, thinking of the Diarahan spell, which he couldn't yet cast.

The goblins frowned, "In some ways. Muggles are more advanced in others. You intend to restore your body?" he asked astutely.

"We goblins are quite advanced in brewing potions. It is one of the few avenues left to us after we were prohibited from carrying wands," continued Helmsbane, sneering as he mentioned the ban.

"Then I will take the potions, as well as those books. I trust the prices are reasonable?" he asked.

"I will see to it personally. You will be priced fairly," assured Helmsbane, just as the Greengrass family entered the room, looking very curious.

"We were requested to come here?" asked Lord Greengrass cautiously while looking at Harry.

Soon, the Greengrasses were settled down, their eyebrows rising steadily as they heard Helmsbane explain the situation. Finally, Lord Greengrass turned to him.

"You wish for us to be your legal guardian?"

He nodded sharply and turned his chair to face the Greengrasses, knowing he would have to be honest about his reasons.

"Yes. You're one of the few families I've come across in the wizarding world. From what I can see, you appear to be honorable. And I would like to get away from my relatives as soon as possible."

Lord Greengrass' mouth quirked in a smile as he heard the reasons, "You shouldn't be so quick to trust, Harry. Wizarding society, especially noble wizarding society have created masks to wear like no other."

"Why do you wish to leave your relatives so badly?" interjected Lady Greengrass, looking confused.

He sighed, hating the fact that he would have to use dramatics. He had told them, but perhaps they believed his accounts to be the over-exaggerations of a child. The only way to truly convince them was to show them. He stood and wriggled out of his oversized shirt, allowing them to look at the front for a while, before turning and allowing them to see his back.

"Bastards," hissed Lady Greengrass, while the others in the room looked murderous.

Mottled bruises covered a large portion of his body, as well as scars, many of them remarkedly old. He allowed them to look for only a few seconds before pulling his shirt back on. Playing on sympathy was not something he liked to do, though on this occasion he had to.

He turned to look at them again, schooling his face to be impassive, "I believe this explains my urgency, Lady Greengrass."

Lord Greengrass nodded along with his wife, his eyes now pensive.

"I have also been told that I can be of help to you, with my status and family seats. I will be happy to oblige, within reason, in return for your kindness."

Lady Greengrass scowled, her beautiful features marred, as she said, "That will not be necessary. We always assumed you had a magical guardian, and that they would be informed when you spoke to Gringotts. We never expected that you wouldn't have a guardian. We will be honored to act as guardians for you. _Won't_ we, dear?" she asked, her voice sharper than the edge of a sword.

Helmsbane looked on amusedly as Lord Greengrass hastened to agree with what his wife said. Harry felt amused as well, watching both mother and daughter glare at the father. The poor man stood little chance. He shivered a little, reminded of when all the girls in the dorm would glare at Junpei after he made an inevitable perverted remark.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Lord Greengrass, turning to look at Harry, "We stay neutral on most issues, you see. But no, despite the backlash this might cause, I will not have a child sent back to an abusive home."

Harry smiled. It was his first true smile since he had arrived into this universe, and his emerald eyes sparkled. Then, he turned to Helmsbane.

"Can you help me formalize this, Helmsbane?" he asked his account manager, and received a firm nod in reply.

"There are Ministry employees who are in...interesting positions with regard to their bank status," said the goblin, his smile now turning vindictive, "I will encourage them to formalize this within tomorrow. Lord Greengrass will merely have to sign these documents."

"You have the documents already?" asked Lady Greengrass, looking surprised.

Helmsbane tried to look modest, an expression that looked out of place on a goblin's face, "All account managers try to prepare for every eventuality. We do have plenty of space for the documents."

"I can imagine," said Lord Greengrass dryly as he signed the documents and handed them to Helmsbane, 'I believe this is all you require?"

Helmsbane nodded, putting the documents away.

Harry looked at the family that had taken him in, "Thank you once again, Lord Greengrass, Lady Greengrass."

He suddenly found himself being impaled by a glare.

"Now, that won't do, Harry," said Lady Greengrass sweetly, a dangerous glint in her eyes, "As part of this family, you will call us Damien and Isabela. _Won't_ you?"

He felt himself freezing under the glare, and hastened to nod in compliance. Daphne giggled at the sight.

"That will be happening a lot, just so you know," she informed him. His eyes widened.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

><p>"You wanted to see me, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Stuart Rogers fearfully as the blond man swept into his office. It was unusual to see him in the Department of Magical Transportation, and even more unusual when he didn't go straight to the ministry.<p>

"Clearly," said the blonde man in a silky, dangerous tone as he sat down without waiting to be invited.

"A-Are you sure you don't want to see the minister?" asked the deputy minister nervously, beginning to sweat noticeably.

"Which office am I in, Rogers?" asked Lucius, staring coldly at the deputy minister.

"R-Right. How can I help you mister Malfoy?"

"You can stop wasting my time and get this approved," said Lord Malfoy, placing a sheaf of parchments on the polished table.

Stuart's eyes widened in alarm as he looked at what was written in the papers.

"B-But...this is nothing short of treason! It breaks every rule in the Department!"

"Hence this amendment, after which it will be government procedure, and not treason," snapped Lucius, standing to tower over the frightened employee, "I suggest you do it in stages. Slip the smaller ones to your Minister when he's signing papers in a hurry. When he's signed enough of them, he'll have no choice but to sign the big one."

"I-I can't do-"

"How is your wife, Cynthia, Stuart? And your child. Just turned two didn't he? Shame if he didn't live to turn three."

Lucius walked away without waiting for an answer. He knew what Stuart would do. The bill would be passed within a year.

As he strode down the busy ministry corridor, his eyes became clouded, losing their sharpness.

_**Yes**_ whispered the voice in his head _**More, more and more.**_

_**Eternity awaits. We must have control soon.**_

Lucius walked briskly to the next unfortunate soul's office. There was much work to be done.

* * *

><p>"Ah yes...I've been expecting you, . I remember when your parents came here for <em>their<em> first wand."

Harry found himself face-to-face with the weirdest man he had ever met, and when the list included Igor, that was saying something. The male looked at him eerily for a few seconds before turning around and hobbling behind the counter, already pulling out long, slim boxes with startlingly precise hands.

"Don't worry dear, Mr. Ollivander's always been that way," whispered Lady Green- no, Isabela behind him while Daphne looked around the store with a bit of awe. He had looked at her, first, before rattling off the exact specifications of the wands her parents held. Harry had found the experience amusing. Until, that is, those pale orbs had turned on him.

"I'm feeling nostalgic already," smiled Damien as he brought up the rear and closed the door to the shop.

"Ladies first, if you please," called out Ollivander and Daphne nodded before stepping before the counter. His eyes widened incredulously when a tape roll began to take measurements by itself, starting with the distance between her eyebrows. He also noticed that Ollivander was paying no attention to the measurements whatsoever.

"Ah...here we go. Eleven inches, rosewood, strong and rigid, with a core of a single kelpie hair. Give it a go."

Daphne picked up her wand, and immediately the counter split in half, leaving a cloud of dust in the air.

"Perhaps not," muttered Ollivander as Damien waved his wand and cleared the air.

"Try this one. Twelve inches, hazel wood, and the core is composed of unicorn hair."

Daphne picked the wand up, gingerly this time, the nearby vase of flowers froze and shattered.

"Interesting," muttered Ollivander, "Perhaps one of the more foreign cores…"

The man disappeared into a corridor behind the counter, and it was nearly a minute before he came out again.

"One of the few of its kind. I once experimented with crushed Wendigo teeth. Fine core, but not very suited to the English, I found. Gregorovitch uses them widely. Now then. Blackthorn wood, twelve inches, unyielding."

Daphne picked her wand up, and a blue glow erupted around her, even as the wand emitted silver sparks.

"I am happy to have found it an owner," smiled Ollivander, "That wand will serve you will, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne almost skipped back to the rest of the group, beaming as she cradled her new wand.

"How befitting," said Damien, smiling widely as he congratulated Daphne. Harry wondered why, but before he could ask, it was his turn.

"Now then, Mr. Potter. Let's start with this, shall we? Thirteen inches-"

**No.**

Suddenly, his aura flared out wildly, and he felt himself being lifted into the air as one of the more powerful entities in his mind struggled to make himself felt.

"_No, I cannot yet summon you_," he thought urgently, even as his frail body's energy began to drain.

**To pass judgement have you come to this world.**

He grunted as his right arm was forced up.

**To restore the scales of balance is your purpose.**

His palm opened and turned, as if waiting to receive something.

**Then you shall BECOME judgement itself. **

His palm began to shimmer, as if something was trying to manifest itself out of thin air. He gasped as he felt his energy fall until he was nearly spent.

**All of judgment falls within my domain.**

A dark scale manifested itself in his hand, radiating enormous power.

**I am Satan. Wield judgment through me, my Master.**

He fell to the floor as the possession left him, his consciousness already starting to fade.

"This will be the core of my wand," he whispered before the world turned dark.

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><p><strong>Concluding Notes: I know I haven't explained a lot of things. Like Lucius' possession. But patience. All in its proper read.<strong>

**Review. Review. Review. I won't know what you think unless you review.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Titania Dances

**I am not abandoning this story.**

**There, with that out of the way, I have to tell you guys that December was a very tough time for me. There were things I needed to work through, and my creative energy was almost non-existent. Which led to this very long gap between updates. I'll just say that from now on, I will be updating more frequently.**

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><p>It was a very annoyed Harry that woke up, only to find himself in an unfamiliar bedroom.<p>

"I really need to bring this body up a few notches. I can't afford to keep fainting after most summonings," he muttered to himself as he examined his surroundings. The furniture was stamped with what he recognized to be the same symbol that had been on Lord Gree- Damien's robes.

_It must be their house_ he thought to himself as he slid out of the bed, noting with faint embarrassment that his clothes had been changed while he was unconscious. Almost simultaneously, a small creature appeared before him with a pop, with ears that seemed to have a life of their own.

"Master Potter be up. Prim be letting Master and Missus know. Sir must please follow," it squeaked, its chest puffed out as if it were a royal stewart. He followed the miniature creature with some amusement as it led him through the house. The corridors he went through were brightly furnished, without random artifacts cluttering them. He did note that there were various portraits, and a few of them appeared to be moving and speaking.

_This is one weird world_ he thought to himself as he watched a portrait in which a man appeared to be talking animatedly to a tree stump. Prim stopped and he almost ran into...him? her? _Her_ he decided, after thinking back on the voice. The creature knocked on a door, and motioned for Harry to enter.

"Thank you, Prim," came Damien's voice, upon which Prim bowed and disappeared, leaving him to walk into the room, where Daniel was looking at him with a disconcerting focus.

"What was that creature?" he asked curiously, partly out of discomfort at the look he was receiving.

"Ah, that was a house elf," said Damien, appearing to snap out of his line of thought, "Most old wizarding families will have one, you will find. In fact," he said, and walked towards a large desk, where he noticed a small wrapped package sitting, "Gringotts sent someone over with the books you requested. They've been shrunk down. When you wish to read them, just call for Prim and she will enlarge them again. They also sent nutrition potions. Once in the day, and once in the night for a month," he said, handing Harry the package.

He raised his eyebrows at how light the package was. Magic was proving to be quite useful, he was beginning to regret not exploring the possibilities outside of combat with his personas. He put the package in a pocket he found on his robes as Damien motioned for him to sit down.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked Damien, rather confused to see Gringotts process his request so quickly.

"Almost two days now," said Damien quietly.

"Ah," he said, understanding dawning on him. He groaned internally when Isabela swept into the room, followed closely by Daphne. He was in for quite a long conversation.

"Harry! Prim told us you were awake. How do you feel?" asked Isabela worriedly.

"I'm fine now. A little hungry," he admitted as his stomach reminded him of that fact, quite loudly.

"Oh! How rude of us," said Isabela, before calling for Prim and arranging for some soup and bread.

He sighed as all three members of the family proceeded to look at him expectantly. There was clearly no way around an explanation, though perhaps that was for the best.

"Where would you like me to begin?"

"The unearthly voice followed by the appearance of a magical artifact that sent Mr. Ollivander into a frenzy of excitement appears to be as good a place to start as any," said Damien, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

_So it is_ he thought to himself amusedly. He settled himself into a comfortable position in his chair, anticipating a long period of explanations.

He wasn't wrong.

* * *

><p>Lucius Malfoy sat alone in his study, hunched near the fireplace as he retched repeatedly. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his entire frame seemed to have shrunken over the past few days. With trembling hands he tried to lift himself up, only to fail and fall on the floor again.<p>

He screamed when the voice returned - the voice that had mercifully left him alone for the last few hours.

_**This container will not hold me for much longer.**_

"No…" whimpered Lucius, curled up on the floor, praying for help to come. But help would not come. He had set up the privacy wards in his office. The voice had made him. Help would not be coming, at least not for a good long while.

_**Mankind called for the end. I am the bringer.**_

The dry racking increased in intensity, forcing Lucius' body to go into convulsions as he desperately tried to gain control over his body.

_**The call for death is too weak here. I will help them fulfill their destiny.**_

The convulsions increased in frequency, and Lucius' eyes began to slide backwards into his head, on the precipice of losing consciousness.

_**Until a suitable vessel is found, I will divide myself and strengthen the call.**_

Blood began to seep out of Lucius' eyes as he let out one final, tortured scream before succumbing to unconsciousness. Even as his vision faded, dark miasma began to pour out of him.

The miasma pooled around, and even as it did so, Lucius' breathing became more regular, and the relief was visible in his body. As soon as the miasma stopped flowing, it began to break itself apart into numerous pieces.

Slowly, the clusters moved away in different directions. Even as they moved away, the face of Lucius Malfoy twisted itself into what was unmistakably a smile.

_**Soon, the call will sound.**_

* * *

><p><em>Three days later<em>

He sighed and put down the book he was reading, allowing himself to properly absorb the information. It had taken a three hour explanation, followed by him summoning Orpheus to convince the Greengrasses that he wasn't a delusional maniac. Setting fire to a nearby chair with **Agi** had perhaps contributed as well.

He still had not told them about him not being of this world. As far as they were concerned, he had discovered his powers five years ago, and was indeed Harry Potter. Which, for all intents and purposes, he really was. That was one explanation he would most likely not share with anyone. After all, even he had no clear idea as to how exactly he had gotten to this universe.

He began a series of workouts he had developed while in the Kendo club, thinking about the past three days. Lord and Lady Greengrass had mostly left him to his own devices, telling him that they needed time to talk through what he had told them. He didn't blame them for that.

To his intense amusement, Daphne had taken to observing him from what she obviously thought to be good hiding spots whenever he went outside his room. He wondered if she wanted to see more examples of his power. The curiosity in her eyes certainly seemed to suggest as much, though he also caught a hint of uncertainty in her demeanor. Nevertheless, he trusted his senses as he always did in these situations, and remained silent. She would approach him when she was ready.

The potions he had been given were miraculous in their effort. While his own abilities allowed for rapid healing or removal of ailments, none of his abilities had entered into the realm of nutrition. And yet here were potions that were rapidly compensating for malnutrition, to the extent where he could already begin to feel the effects after only three days. Now was the best time to begin honing his body.

_My eleven year old body _he had to keep reminding himself. He could not push it very far until he was a little older, which meant he could no longer count on his sword fighting skills as much as he used to. To compensate, he had already begun to read up on magic.

He had begun with magical theory, though Daniel had told him it was one of the toughest fields of all. It had been the same with his personas. First he had spoken to Igor to learn all he could about Personas. By the end of his questions, even the normally stoic keeper of the Velvet Room had a faint look of exhaustion on his face.

Unfortunately, he had no such expertise at his disposal this time. Not many magicians attempted to look into the theory behind magic, preferring instead to record laws based on phenomenological experience. And these were far too specific for him to draw conclusions about magic as a whole. But then he had come to the author who went by the nom-de-plume Ignatius. Daniel had the author's book _Insights into Magic _in his library, though he himself had not read it.

"_In all my years, I have rarely come across something that dislikes being bounded as much as magic does. People try by the dozens to formulate laws that help them understand this capricious force. Even more phenomena arise that defies these laws. I have come across them myself. _

_With such experiences in hand, I propose that there are only two fundamental requirements that magic expects: focus and energy. Focus is achieved in multiple ways. Wands, incantations, staffs, and crystals are a few examples of focus. Focus involves the focus of energy, which is the second requirement, but more importantly, the focus of imagination and intention. To create a bowl of soup, one must be able to visualize the soup. One must be able to imagine the flavor they wish to impart to the soup. And one must be able to will their energy to follow their focus. Indeed, the premise behind wandless magic or silent magic is that the caster's focus is honed well enough to dispense with incantations or wands._

_The second requirement is, of course, energy. All magical beings have a core of magical energy that they can channel, and which replenishes itself over time. This raw energy is directed by focus that the magician employs to make the desired effect possible. Beware of exhausting your core, however, for when the core is absolutely empty, you may never regain the use of magic again. Indeed, the uncrossable barrier that is death may remain so solely because no being is shown to possess the energy capable of breaching it."_

This was what he needed - a foothold from which he could grasp what magic meant in this universe. He had to admit, it made sound sense even when it came to his own ability. Personas were only limited insofar as his own imagination was limited. And he could summon as many personas as he wished, if only his body had the energy for it.

Finding this nugget of information had taken him three days. Now, he had begun with Transfiguration, fascinated by the potential it held. Offensive and defensive spells did not concern him much at the moment. Even in his weakened state, he had a range of options at his disposal. But this field was like nothing he had encountered before. The closest he had come to this field was the crafting of weapons by imbuing them with personas.

He stopped as his routine came to a close, taking a few moments to recover his breath. His weakness continued to shock him, all the more so because he had never been so weak in his own body.

Just as he picked up the book to resume reading, there was a small knock at his door.

"It's me," came Daphne's voice, "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Come in," he said in measured tones and marked the book before laying it aside. He smiled slightly at Daphne as she opened the door and walked inside, and waited for her to speak.

It became apparent within a matter of seconds that Daphne would not speak easily. She looked conflicted, though her face hid it well. But conflicted by what emotions? Even he could not tell. She had admirable control over her face despite being so young. He knew then that he would have to do something to make her feel more at ease.

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked her, making her snap out of her thoughts hastily.

"A walk?" she asked him, confused.

"Yes, a walk," he reiterated, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "You have a beautiful garden, if what I see from my window is any indication. And I haven't explored it yet."

She blushed slightly for sounding as confused as she did and nodded, prompting him to stand up and follow her out of the door.

The garden thrummed with the feeling of peace and security. Though he had only suggested it as a means to put Daphne at ease, he found himself enjoying it nonetheless. It bore the signs of being attended to with remarkable diligence and care. They were now at the center of a garden, where there was a rectangular structure. Stone benches were scattered throughout the clearing, while tall hedges formed the boundaries. Statues were arranged in different points throughout the area.

"My mother always said this place represented the inner Greengrass," said Daphne softly after a few moments.

He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Being a Noble family means that we cannot be ourselves in public. Especially since we are of a small faction, under constant pull from both sides. We must constantly be guarded. Never revealing our true emotions or thoughts. Always distant. Always cold," she continued, and he could sense the sadness in her tone.

He frowned. Why did her tone have the tinge of experience to it? Why did her words seem to outstrip her age?

"You speak as if from experience," he said. The tone conveyed the question, though the form did not, "How is that possible?"

Daphne laughed lightly, but the tone was bitter, "Most children begin to receive instruction in these matters when are eight or nine. We learn. We have to learn."

His face grew stony, and she must have noticed it, for she hastened to add, "That's not to say it's my parents' fault! They're kind and loving. They want me to have all the moments of childhood I can."

His anger abated, and he realized that it was not so different from what Mitsuru had to endure. Growing up before her time, always presenting an impeccable facade in public, always having to excel, and never a moment for weakness.

"It's the environment," continued Daphne in a slightly tired tone, "I've only been exposed to a small portion of what my father and mother face on a daily basis. But it's still tiring. Speaking formally. Dressing formally. Even birthday parties become events where little children try to play the parts of their parents."

Her voice trailed off into silence, and stayed silent for a few moments. Then she shook her head rapidly and spoke again, this time sounding a little more cheerful.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to go into such detail. You're very easy to talk to," she said, smiling slightly.

"So I've been told," he replied with amusement, thinking back on his previous high school life.

"Anyway, what I want to point out is this," she said, gesturing to a statue that was at the center of the retreat - he decided it was a retreat, it was the only word that sprung to his mind. He narrowed his eyes, reading the fainted inscription at the base of the statue.

"Titania."

"This garden is one of the few places where we can drop the facade. My mother used to tell me stories about the faeries. And I loved it. I loved what Titania represented. Calmness. Serenity. Power."

He began to realize why she was telling him all this.

"I...I would very much like to see her."

He turned to look at her, and saw a desperate eleven-year-old girl who needed - for lack of a better word - some magic to happen in her life. To realize her childhood at least in this one fleeting manner. His answer was chosen for him long before he was consciously aware of this fact. It was one word.

"Persona."

Power flooded through his body. Warm, yet cool. Dignified, yet playful. Powerful and independent. Flowers blossomed in the hundreds around him, and the smell of spring hung scintillatingly in the air.

She floated in the air with crystal-clear wings, her green dress moving gently in the breeze. Golden hair flowed in tresses, dressed with flowers of the spring. She was beautiful and fleeting - the very essence of spring.

"Beautiful," whispered Daphne, an awe-struck look on her face as she drank in the embodiment of her childhood heroine. He began to move away from the retreat slowly, ensuring that he had used enough power to keep Titania embodied for a good while.

It had been a while since he had last used his personas for anything other than battles.

* * *

><p>The book spun slowly in mid-air, the product of his first ever magical exercise. The principal was quite similar to casting spells through his personas, though in that case he was wielding their power through his energy. Now, he had to channel and focus his own power. Something about this body made that easier, and he realized that his magical core was quite large.<p>

_Finally, an advantage to his this body _he mused to himself. He was jerked from his thoughts when he suddenly heard the unmistakable roar of a large fire. He stood and walked out of his room with some speed, concerned that something was wrong.

_It came from the study, I think_ he thought as he walked briskly in that direction. He neared the door, only to find the door open, and excited noises coming from inside.

He was greeted by the sight of what looked like a miniature Daphne, surrounded by Greengrass family. He sighed in relief, realizing that nothing seemed to be out of place.

_Wait._

He looked at the young girl again. Soot and ash on her dress, standing directly in front of the fireplace, around which the rest of the family seemed to have gathered. Her hair also seemed ruffled.

_No. It can't be._

_These people can fire travel. Of course they can fire travel _he deadpanned to himself _That or she got caught in the chimney._

He was about to withdraw to his room when Isabela noticed him and called out to him.

"Harry! Excellent timing. Come here, I want you to meet someone."

He founded himself being regarded by curious, bright blue eyes as the young girl turned her attention on him.

"Tori," interrupted Daphne brightly before Isabela could say anything, "Meet Harry Potter!"

He waited silently as the girl looked at him, first with doubt, then with shock as her eyes landed on the scar on his forehead. He chucked slightly when the girl let out a high pitched squeal before burying her face in her mother's arms.

"Daphne! You know your sister too well to do that," scolded Isabela, even as she fought her own smile. Daniel had no such inhibitions, and laughed heartily, only to squirm seconds later under Isabela's glare.

He shot Daniel a look of understanding and sympathy before turning his attention to the girl, who still wouldn't look at him.

"Hello-" here he stopped short and looked at Isabela, realizing he still didn't know the girl's full name.

"Astoria," smiled Isabela, "Though she prefers to go by Tori."

"Hello Tori," he began again, eliciting a giggle from the child.

"Hi," she replied shyly before dashing out of the room.

"You'll have to forgive Tori," said Damien, his tone humorous, "She's eight years old and filled to the brim with stories of the famous boy-who-lived."

He blinked. _Boy-who-lived? _

"The title **is** rather eccentric," said Isabela, laughing at the disconcernation on his face, "Now, I have to go and help Tori unpack."

"She was staying with a close family friend," explained Daphne.

"Right, time for dinner I think," said Daniel cheerfully and beckoned for them both to follow him to to the dining room.

Soon, the entire family sat at the dining table, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he watched the family interact over dinner. The envy soon turned to nostalgia, however, as he remembered the various times his friends - no, his family - would behave similarly.

Towards the end of the dinner, he was distracted from his memories by a small nudge to his ribs. He turned to his left, only for Daphne to flash him a mischievous smile before turning to face the rest of her family. He watched with faint alarm, a feeling of impending doom starting to weigh down on him.

"Father, mother, don't you want to know what I did today?" she asked her parents, the very picture of innocence.

_Ah. This is going to be problematic_ he thought to himself, but kept silent. Despite his better judgment, he too wanted to see how the Greengrass family would react.

"Of course, dear. You don't usually tell us about what you do," said Damien genially, reaching for another helping of dessert.

"Well, I studied French for a while. Then I continued reading on Wizarding etiquette. I spent some time writing a letter to Tracey. Oh, and I talked to Titania," she finished, adding the last part almost as an after thought.

"Excellent, excel-" Daniel choked in the middle of his sentence as the full impact of what Daphne said struck him. Isabela seemed to be struck silent in shock, while Astoria just looked confused.

He watched the spectacle in concern as the unnatural silence continued anticipating the floodgates of speech to be thrown open at any second.

"You...you spoke to Titania," said Isabela in a faint voice.

He frowned. Perhaps floodgates had been too strong a word to use.

Daphne merely nodded cheerfully and continued eating.

"WHAT?" exclaimed Damien, having finally stopped coughing. That seemed to snap the rest of the family of the daze, and a torrent of questions began to rain down.

He sighed in satisfaction and turned his attention back to his own plate. He had chosen the right word after all. The rest of dinner was a lively affair.

* * *

><p>"I'm too old for so many surprises," said Damien twenty minutes later, his voice still slightly shaky as he poured himself a drink in his study. They were alone, as Damien had asked to have a word with him. He had gone along, wondering what the reason was.<p>

"Now. First of all, I apologize," said Damien, holding up a hand when he made to speak.

"You might not think we have anything to apologize for. But we _have_ been trying to keep a distance from you for the last three days. Even though we're wizards and live surrounded by improbable things, what you said still threw us off balance."

Here he sipped his drink, before continuing, "But we almost forgot to look at what you were as a person. Isabela and I pride ourselves on being fair judges of character. And yours seems to be a good one. If a bit secretive," he added, laughing slightly.

He blinked in response. That had indeed been the predominant opinion about him for a while.

"Of course, three days isn't a lot of time. I reserve the right to change my opinion," said Damien, with a completely serious face. Only his eyes gave away his mirth.

"Well then, that's all I wanted to say," said Damien, sounding faintly embarrassed.

"Thank you," he told Damien as he stood to leave. Just as he did so, an owl flew into Damien's study, dropping a package on the table before swooping out just as quickly.

"That handwriting…" frowned Damien as he looked at the spidery scrawl on the package. His frown turned into a smile as he looked up at him.

"I do believe it's your wand, Harry."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Not the best way to end a chapter, but I really wanted to put something up. A fairly slow chapter, but I want to ensure I allocate enough time to character development. Forming bonds is an inseparable part of the Persona games after all.

**Reviews are fuel. The more I get, the better.** That is all.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Game Begins

**Author's Notes:**

**There's been a lot of confusion about why Nyx is behaving this way. Firstly, understand that this is AU, so I've taken some liberties with the characters and the system.**

**Secondly, no, I don't think Nyx is evil. It is an entity fulfilling a purpose. But, to make a reference to the matrix, what happened when Agent Smith was no longer part of a system? He had to create his own purpose. That is what Nyx is trying to do here. Arisato was an anomaly - one that prevented it from carrying out its designated task. It's broken. It's never known defeat before. It's slowly becoming warped.**

**Review if you like it, or have any suggestions.**

* * *

><p>"So," said Pixie brightly, "What do you think of the decorations?"<p>

He stood there, looking at the chaos that was rampant around him, determined not to lose his stoicness. In his time, he had seen raging infernos of fire. He had seen beings split the earth with a mere step, and had looked upon the Avatar of Nyx itself. Nothing he had seen, however, had prepared him for the sight that now greeted him.

It had begun when Daphne had suggested Occlumency, out of curiosity to see how it would work with his own unique powers. He too had been interested at the prospects it offered. To visualize his own mindspace - his conscious mindspace at least - was an opportunity that interested him greatly, and he had taken the relevant books from Daniel without delay.

He already possessed the pre-requisite. The book required him to find an inner stability - something he had long possessed by nature. The second requirement was for him to possess considerable mental focus - the exercise suggested was to focus on one thing until he could do so to the extent where others faded into the background. This exercise was to be increased until he could apply this selective focus to multiple things.

The second requirement had taken him immediately to his martial experiences. There were many times when he had felt such a sense of focus. It would be when he faced a particularly challenging enemy or group of enemies. The twitch of a limb as it readied to attack, the slightest shift on deformed faces as a spell was about to be chanted, the grimace on a comrade's face that signaled the need for a healing spell - they were all visceral experiences, felt by deep instinct in such moments of heightened focus.

The third step required him to cut off all external stimuli and direct this honed focus deeper and deeper within his own mind. This he had never tried before. Somehow, he had always possessed a reluctance to venture deep into his mind. When he had learned of the Sea of Souls, he had read into psychological theory and philosophy. There wasn't exactly a book that dealt with Persona users, so beyond a point, he had to form his own conclusions, as his preference always was.

The unconscious provided him with the ability to fuse personas - an ability channeled through the Velvet Room somehow. It explained why his personas looked the way they did, had the personalities they did, and behaved the way they did. It had surprised him when he had first fused Hermes. It had looked nothing like the Hermes that Junpei possessed. His was more in keeping with the Greek ideal, and possessed a comedian's wit while Junpei's had looked like an action figurine, and spoke little.

The sub-conscious was presumably the Sea itself, where all his fused personas would reside until called upon. That made his conscious the part that a Persona would occupy when he summoned it. That was when he would channel the persona, and when the persona's emotions and personality could affect his own. That was the point of symbiosis that he would use so often in battles. In a second he would go from being a teenage boy to an entity so ancient that even its mind felt alien. It was this part of the mind that he would have to enter, arrange and fortify through Occlumency.

His mind was bizarre, even by his standards. It looked as if every persona that he had ever summoned had left some sort of mark in it. Even as he stood in his mindscape, wondering where to begin, he felt an entity call for his attention, wanting to be summoned. Curious to see how it would work in a mindscape, he answered the call.

Pixie materialized before him, her face as cheerful as ever as she surveyed his mindscape.

"So," said Pixie brightly, "What do you think of the decorations?"

* * *

><p>"They are not going to be around for much longer," he said, before moving his head to dodge what appeared to be one of Hermes' shoes that was flying around at will.<p>

"Why? It looks fun like this," pouted Pixie, before trying to hit his shoulder. He barely felt the impact of her tiny fists.

"Because ordering it to my liking will be beneficial to me," he said simply, before focusing on his mindscape. The entirety of his chaotic surroundings disappeared, leaving only white space that seemed to extend everywhere. There was no ground and no gravity. It simply was.

"Well that's selfish," muttered Pixie, surveying the now sterile surroundings with a bored eye, "You can't be forgetting that you share this real estate with us, buddy."

"Do I now," he deadpanned as he continued to ponder his choice for his mindscape, wondering whether it would be suitable.

"It's too simple, you know," said Pixie haughtily, and rolled her eyes when he looked at her in mild surprise, "We see what you see. Your memories are ours too. You never wondered why we never seemed surprised by our surroundings when summoned?"

No, he had never thought about it. The answer seemed obvious to him, now that he thought about it. He also felt violated. If they truly possessed his memories…

"Yep," said Pixie, a wicked smile on her face, "We know all about those..._intimate _moments you had with that redhead. She's a good kisser isn't she?"

He chose to ignore her as well as the faint blush that rose to his cheeks, choosing instead to think on different ideas for mindscapes.

"Ooh, that one, that's good," commented Pixie as yet another idea crossed his mind.

"Really? Tartarus?" he asked her doubtfully.

"Why not? You can control everything about your mindscape if you wish. Time, gravity, space, matter," she elaborated.

"Indeed. It also looks like you were right after all," he said as he thought about how he would divide his memories.

"About what?" asked Pixie curiously.

"You do share my memories. You would not sound so smart otherwise," he said with a straight face.

"Meanie!" yelled Pixie, kicking his cheek.

He moved his face idly, his plans for his mindscape almost complete. The only thing left was…

"Whoa. Hell of an idea you just had," said Pixie, looking at the devilish glint in his eye.

"Will it work?" he asked her.

"I don't see why not," she shrugged, before shuddering slightly.

"I pity the person who tries to enter your mindscape…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently, before gathering his focus once more, "Now then, let's get started…"

* * *

><p><strong>A few hours later<strong>

He opened his eyes slowly, his body responding sluggishly after having been still for so long. He found himself looking at Daphne's clear blue eyes, mere inches away from his own. Several seconds passed, with neither of them moving. Unable to think of anything else to do, he raised an eyebrow.

"Eep!" exclaimed Daphne and threw herself away from the bed, where he had been lying down, her face pink with embarrassment.

"I-I was just checking to see if you were alright. You've been like that for a few hours now, and you didn't seem to respond to anything," she stammered, waving her arms in an attempt to justify her actions.

"I was working on setting up my mindscape," he explained, getting up and wincing as his muscles protested the sudden movement.

"You've already reached that stage? Father only gave you those books a week ago!" she asked him incredulously.

"My ability has to do with the mind as well. Some aspects of it made this a little easier," he told her. It was the truth, and yet vague enough that he did not give away much. She nodded, accepting his explanation at face value. A few moments later, her face filled with excitement.

"Oh! I completely forgot why I came here! We got our Hogwarts letter!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining, "Yours is downstairs too, I think the owl came to us when you were acting like the undead.'

He rolled his eyes, but could find no good retort for what she said. She smiled at the small victory and pulled him up from the bed, dragging him with surprising strength.

"Come on! Mother wanted us to open our letters together," urged Daphne.

He did not resist, and went willingly downstairs to the living room, where Isabela was doing her best to keep Astoria away from the two letters on the table.

"The letters are not for you Astoria," said Isabela, exasperation clear in her voice, "Now sit down!"

"I want my letter," muttered the young girl before stalking towards a chair with a pout on her face.

"And you will get yours soon my dear," said Daniel lightly, before spotting him, "Ah, you're here. I trust Daphne didn't rush you too much?" he asked with an amused tone.

"For the sake of my health, I'm not going to answer that," he replied without missing a beat as Isabela handed him a letter. The envelope was sealed with what appeared to be a school's crest, using red wax. He quirked an eyebrow at the strange emblem before breaking open the envelope and pulling out the contents.

The first sheaf of paper was short and to the point.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

He glanced at Isabela and Daniel with a pained look on his face, "Where do these people think up these names?"

"They're certainly unorthodox," chuckled Isabela, while Daphne was too engrossed in her letter to notice the exchange.

He was casting his eyes over the second page, which listed rules and books, amongst other things, until a discreet cough from Daniel got his attention.

"No point in putting this off anymore, I suppose. Now that your letter is here, we need to talk about the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

The way Daniel said it left him with little doubt that the man was far more than the headmaster of a school.

* * *

><p>"So this man was allowed to completely take charge of me as a baby?" he asked, frowning at what he had heard over the last half an hour.<p>

"Ignoring many, many protocols along the way, I might add," said Daniel, "The Light would never question their leader. The Dark did not want to call any attention to themselves so close to the fall of their leader. The neutral side tried to look into it, but we lacked the political power to do so."

"But I must have had other family, or at least people close to my family," he asked, wondering just how reclusive the Potters had been.

"Indeed you did. But none of them could have taken you in," frowned Daniel, "Your godfather was sent to Azkaban for allegedly betraying your parents in the war. There was no hearing,though. I have my reservations on the issue. Your godmother, Alice Longbottom, was tortured into insanity along with her husband. They were the only two parties that could have stopped Dumbledore from doing what he did."

He remained silent, contemplating the information. It seemed the war had left deeper scars than he first thought. He would need to learn much more about these political factions before he could act. Summoning his Personas could perhaps resolve the matter through brute force, but that was hardly a lasting or fitting solution.

"I need to know more," he said, after a few minutes of silence, "Not what the books say, or the newspapers say. I need to know from someone who is actively involved in these politics."

"Some of the things that this system does...I'm not sure one so young should hear of it," said Daniel hesitantly.

"This system does not seem to make exceptions for children, Daniel," he said softly, "And Helmsbane told me I would be entangled in it soon after I got my letter."

"Yes. As much as I hate the fact that some children are pulled into it so soon, you're right," scowled Daniel. It was clear that his own daughters were on his mind when he spoke.

"Then I would rather go into this well-informed, rather than reaching blindly in the dark," he said quietly, but firmly.

"I can't argue with that," replied Daniel heavily, before reaching for a nearly empty bottle of whisky.

"Only eleven and already you're driving me to drink," muttered Daniel, though there was a weary amusement in his tone, "Now then, where shall I begin?"

He smiled at Daniel's attempt to lighten the mood, "Beliefs. What do the Dark, the Light, and the Neutral stand for?"

"They're mostly on opposite ends of the spectrum. The Dark believes in the inherent superiority of wizards and looks down on Muggles. They're mostly what we call Purebloods - that means they come from a long line of magical blood. And because they believe in their inherent superiority, they try at every turn to close wizarding society off from new magical blood, whom they consider Mudbloods. They also disapprove of wizards marrying into muggle blood. Half-bloods are tolerated, but ridiculed in their ideology.

The Light, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. They profess equality, and for the most part, they do act accordingly. But their fanaticism to their own beliefs is equal to the Dark wizards with their own beliefs. They regard muggles with some patronization, and are happy to be lax about the security of our society. They seem to believe that muggles are harmless and defenseless. They push for progress at every turn, and yet none of them seem to know what progress really means."

He almost smiled at the dichotomy that had sprung out of the wizarding world, noting how similar they were to political parties in muggle societies.

"And the neutral side?"

"To put it simply, we have a flexible stance. It is foolish to expect one ideology to stand against many diverse situations. We do not agree with the extremism of the Dark, or the extremism of the Light. The right answer usually lies somewhere in the middle," said Daniel softly.

He nodded. That was a stance he could agree with. Angels and demons both resided within him. Angels could be as harsh and unforgiving as demons in some situations, while demons sometimes exhibited virtues that were extolled by angels. Only in the Sea of Souls could two such opposing forces come together. In the heat of battle, they had become comrades. They had found middle ground.

"Who is the more immediate force to deal with?" he asked Daniel, his mind already thinking ahead.

"You will find both forces at work in Hogwarts. But with the leader of the Dark presumed dead, Albus Dumbledore is the more influential force you will come across," said Daniel. The stress on the word 'presumed' did not go unnoticed.

"Then tell me about Dumbledore next," he said, and smiled slightly when Daniel groaned.

"This is going to be a long day, isn't it?"

He smiled innocently, "Perhaps you should pace yourself, Daniel. September is still quite some time away."

Daniel shook his head in mock consternation, "Somehow, I feel like it'll be here before you know it. Now then, Dumbledore. He's quite a character..."

* * *

><p><strong>August 25 - One week till departure<strong>

"I'm telling you, Albus. The boy has been gone for a month now!"

Albus Dumbledore looked at the woman incredulously through his fireplace, unable to comprehend what she had said.

"A month? And you waited this long to tell me?" he asked her, a touch of anger in his voice.

"Those pigs Dursleys maintained that they had sent him to a relative for the summer," replied Mrs. Figg heatedly, "But it got suspicious when they simply ceased to mention him after a while. I told you not to trust them with Harry Albus! Many in the Order told you so!"

"And I have maintained, Arabella, that certain circumstances make it essential for the boy to be there, including the blood wards," said Albus in a tired voice as he rested his head wearily on his hand. He felt old, so very old.

"Well, fat lot of good those protections did, because the boy is gone Albus! If I were you I'd come down here and speak to these muggles at once," proclaimed Arabella, and her head vanished from the fire, leaving Albus to ponder what she had just said.

"Did I do the wrong thing, my friend? I know he was unhappy there. But he was safe from so many who would do him harm," he said to the phoenix besides him, hoping for some support. Fawkes simply looked at him inscrutably, as he always did when Harry was brought up.

Albus sighed and got to his feet. He would have to talk to the Dursleys, a prospect he was not looking forward to. He manipulated the wards and Hogwarts and disappeared with a sharp crack, appearing at the Dursleys' doorstep.

The blood wards were on the verge of collapsing, a sure sign that Harry no longer resided in Privet Drive. It was already well past Harry's birthday. He would have to be brought back, quickly, before the blood wards fell completely.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door, already picturing the look of revulsion and fright on Petunia's face as she opened the door.

* * *

><p><strong>August 27 - 10 A.M<strong>

"How did this Dumbledore even know where to find me?" he frowned as he sat in Daniel's study. The headmaster had somehow discovered his whereabouts, and Daniel had received an owl from him the previous night, requesting a meeting.

"Hogwarts always knows where magical children are, it's how the post owls can always reach you. I' m afraid I don't know how, the secret is well kept. But as headmaster, I'm assuming he has access to it," replied Daniel, sounding annoyed.

"What does he hope to accomplish with this visit?" he asked Daniel, though he had a suspicion he knew the answer already.

"Control. Dumbledore hates it when he loses control. I imagine he will want you to return to your previous...environment," finished Daniel, pronouncing the last word with disgust.

"Then it is good we came up with an idea to deter him," he replied, trying to calm Daniel down. It worked to some extent, as the anger faded from Daniel's face, only to be replaced by an icy look.

"Yes, I hope Dumbledore realizes he's treading on shaky ground. It will not bode well for him otherwise."

He had nothing to say to that, for he agreed with the sentiment. When Daniel had received the letter, the first thing he had done was request Harry's permission for something to use as leverage against the headmaster. He had agreed immediately, for he trusted Daniel's judgment. He would, as always, keep an open mind, but it was foolish to approach a potential threat with no defenses.

The fire flared up and turned emerald green, prompting them both to break out of their thoughts. Daniel fell into what Daphne had called the Greengrass mask. It was a truly frightening sight, to see a normally warm and cheerful man in such a mood.

An old man stepped through the fire, and his eyes widened slightly before he too slipped into his neutral mask. The man was eccentric beyond compare, with a long beard and neon pink robes. Half-moon glasses sat on a crooked nose, framing electric blue eyes. Power emanated from this man, and he threw up his Occlumency shields immediately, remembering what the book said about Legilimency.

"Lord Greengrass, thank you for seeing me," said the old man, bowing slightly to Daniel, nodded curtly.

"Dumbledore."

"And you must be Harry," said the old man, undeterred by Daniel's tone. His eyes twinkled outrageously as he pulled out his wand and conjured a luxurious couch before sitting down.

"I am," he said emotionlessly, surveying the old man.

"I...am here about a rather sensitive issue," began the old man hesitantly. Daniel immediately interrupted, holding up his hand.

He smiled slightly when he saw the use of a classic tactic to throw the other party off their pace.

"I am aware of why you're here Dumbledore. Let me save you time by telling you that Harry has asked me to be his magical guardian, and I have consented. Gringotts has seen to the paperwork. Indeed, they were quite surprised that a child as important as Harry Potter did not have a guardian till then," he finished, his voice dangerously light at the end.

Dumbledore bowed his head, "I admit to taking many liberties when it came to Harry. But all I have done is to ensure that he is protected from those who would seek to harm him."

His eyes narrowed at what Dumbledore said, "In that case, please feel free to tell me how being beaten, abused and treated like a slave for ten years helps protect me," he said coldly, and his aura flared a little. Abuse was one of the few things he had a definitive opinion about.

Dumbledore looked startled at the power he displayed, as well as what he had said.

"What do you mean, Harry? Surely your own relatives would never abuse you."

"His scars, Dumbledore, were horrifying enough to make a goblin flinch. I would suggest a less flippant approach to this topic," said Daniel sharply.

Dumbledore looked at Daniel in shock for a few minutes, before the man's entire demeanor seemed to shrink.

"I...I did not know. I kept tabs on you," he said, speaking to Harry directly, "And while it indicated that you were not loved, I had no idea about abuse. I swear to you."

"Then it seems to me that you did not look very closely," was his emotionless reply as he continued to look at Dumbledore impassively.

"No. I confess I did not," sighed Dumbledore, "The war was finally over, the chaos had stopped. We all embraced the peace that followed wholeheartedly. I believed you were safe. It seems I believed too much and did too little."

"It seems to me we have nothing left to talk about, then," he said quietly, and made to get up from his chair.

"No. Wait," said Dumbledore hurriedly, "I must still ask you to go back, Harry. I will do my best to ensure they do not ill-treat you again. But it is imperative that you return to Privet Drive immediately."

He looked at the old man incredulously, but managed to keep his anger hidden. Demons howled in his mind, begging to be allowed to act on his rage. He silenced them as Daniel stood from his chair, cold rage seeming to pour out of him.

"I believe it is time you leave, Dumbledore. Harry is now under the protection of House Greengrass. And we look out for our own."

Dumbledore looked at Daniel defiantly for a few seconds before a gleam of desperation showed in his eyes.

"I wonder...how would the wizarding world react when they hear that their savior has been taken into a supposedly-dark family," said the old man, and the threat was clear.

Daniel merely smiled, and picked up a paper from his table.

"It seems it has slipped your mind, Dumbledore, but I happen to be one of the major shareholders of the Daily Prophet," he said, a vicious glint in his eye. Dumbledore paled slightly at the reminder.

"In my capacity, I invited one of the journalists there to draw up a rough draft of Harry's first ten years. I believe you will find the article quite interesting," he said, and handed over the parchment to Dumbledore.

Harry watched as blood drained from Dumbledore's face rapidly as he read the header of the story:

_**Shocking Revelations - Boy-Who-Lived Abused! Dumbledore Responsible!**_

_**This reporter talks to Lord Greengrass, who has graciously rescued the savior of the wizarding world from his abusive environment.**_

"You would not do this. It would break your policy of neutrality and declare you to the Purebloods," muttered the old man half-heartedly.

"No, I would not. Not unless someone were to force my hand. You know the way out, Dumbledore," said Daniel coolly before turning his back to the old man, a clear sign of dismissal.

He watched as Dumbledore hesitated for a few seconds and looked at him beseechingly. He let nothing but indifference show. A few seconds later, Dumbledore was gone.

"The bloody nerve of the man," snarled Daniel as he paced around the study.

"Daniel," he said calmly, his anger already dissipating, "Thank you."

His words had the intended effect, and Daniel began to calm down.

"Of course, Harry. I take my duties as a guardian seriously," he said, the usual trace of amusement beginning to return to his tone.

"He is a very confusing man," said Harry, "He showed what seemed to be genuine remorse, and yet he expected me to bow to his whim."

"Dumbledore has always kept his cards close to chest," muttered Daniel as he made to leave the study, "This time was no different. It's time for dinner, Harry. I'll see you downstairs."

The door closed, leaving him alone in the study.

"Well, the first move has been played," he muttered, and then he too left the study.

* * *

><p><strong>September 1st - 9 AM<strong>

"HARRY!" chirped a painfully cheerful voice, and he groaned slightly as he got up from the bed.

It seemed that he was fated to be woken up before he was ready to in any universe he would be in. His mind went back to the various times he had been woken up by his dormmates. Of course, Aigis had done so more daringly than the others, who had merely called to him through the door.

Even as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Astoria bounced into the room, as energetic as ever.

"Mom wants you to come down soon! Oh, and she also says to make sure you've packed anything," she said cheerfully as she bounded towards the foot of his bed.

"Is that so?" he asked her sleepily, before shuffling over to his trunk and opening it.

"Yeah! Daphne's already eating breakfast!" said Astoria, looking over his shoulder with idle curiosity. Then her eyes dimmed and her face suddenly fell.

"I don't want you guys to leave," she whispered, and his eyes widened slightly as he turned around to face her. He had forgotten that she would be by herself in the house for the first time.

"I'll write to you a lot," he said gently, trying to cheer her up.

"How? You don't have an owl," she asked him despondently.

"No. But I have something better," he said to her, tapping the side of his head with a conspiratorial look.

"Oh, they can deliver letters too?" she asked him curiously, her sadness forgotten.

His lips twitched, "They won't be very happy about it, but sure, they can. If not, I can just send my letters when Daphne sends her owl."

"It's a promise then," cheered Astoria before running out of the room. He shook his head slightly, wondering how she was so active early in the morning before turning his attention back to getting ready.

An hour later, he stood near the door with his trunk locked up, dressed and ready for the journey.

_This is a good chance to try some more magic _he smiled to himself with almost childish glee before focusing on the trunk. He channeled magic to the hand grasping the trunk, willing it to shrink and become light. In a matter of seconds, it was the size of a matchbox.

He smiled, pleased with the result, and put his trunk in his pocket before leaving his room, a strange sense of loss filling him. Even in the short time he had lived in the house, the room had come to be home for him.

The dining room was bustling with activity, as house elves popped in and out with food while Astoria caused havoc with her usual enthusiasm. Even Daphne was affected by the atmosphere, and looked visibly excited.

"Harry! Come on, have some breakfast. Where's your trunk?" asked Isabela with some concern.

He smiled and patted his pocket, proud that he had managed to shrink and lighten his trunk.

"You can do that already?" asked Isabela with astonishment, and then shook her head. "You have your wand, yes?"

He nodded and pulled his wand out from his pocket.

"It's really pretty," chimed in Astoria, and Isabela nodded in agreement.

He had been told that his wand was quite unique. The wand was made with Sycamore white wood, twelve inches, and the core was the powdered scale that he had been given. Just holding it made him feel like power was rushing through his veins. The first time he had picked it up, the stone floor of Damien's study had cracked.

He put it away and focused on the food. He had yet to get used to English breakfasts, missing the rice and various condiments that he would find on a Japanese table. He sighed and reached for his orange juice, wondering whether he could find _natto _in Magical Britain.

Forty-five minutes and many impatient glances from Daphne later, Damien finally put his newspaper down and stood up.

"Ten forty-five. Time to get moving, I think," he said, looking at what appeared to be an antique watch.

"Finally!" exclaimed Daphne, standing up and moving towards Isabela.

"We'll be traveling by Apparition, Harry. Damien will take you. I'll take Daphne and Astoria," said Isabela. She took their hands and disappeared, leaving Harry and Damien alone.

He watched with growing horror as an evil smile crept onto Damien's face.

"Apparition can be quite...unnerving the first few times. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine," he said, the evil grin growing even larger as he beckoned for Harry to grasp his hand.

He wondered how long it would take to commandeer a car and drive to Hogwarts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Some progress, yeah? I'm not going to rush the story. It's not going to be Arisato just summoning ten personas and wiping out everything in sight. Why? Because now he too needs to build a life here. And he cares about the Greengrasses, and will soon meet many people he will befriend. Meaning he not only has to remove the threat posed by Nyx, he will have to make Wizarding society better. It's just in his nature to try to do the right thing.

**The more reviews I get, the more ideas and inspiration I have to write. So yeah. Review.**


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